


Rock n Roll Star

by katy15307



Series: Short Story Thingies [9]
Category: Oasis (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5679442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katy15307/pseuds/katy15307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noel has to put up with a day with his little brother when all he wants to do is practice for a band audition. (1988)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock n Roll Star

I was born and raised in Manchester. I was on the dole like everyone else. I was written off like everyone else but I knew I was destined to get out of there, to make something of myself.  
I lived in a bedsit, the price of freedom from your childhood home, a shitty bedsit not much bigger than a prison cell.  
I was strumming my acoustic guitar (I'd had one or two noise complaint warnings from using my electric guitar plugged in) waiting for lyrics to form in my mind.  
“Stop playing that crap!” My darling brother complained.  
I stopped the guitar dead, pissed off at him. I'd completely lost my train of thought when I could have been moments away from realising some epic lyrics.  
Everyone said it. People say it's just a waste of time but none of them have have a fucking clue. There wasn’t a single person who believed in me, except my Mam but she was contractually obliged.  
“It's my place, I'll do what I want.” I told him, I'd moved out for exactly that and he still came over bugging me. “If you don't like it, fuck off.”  
His music taste was diabolical. His taste was whatever would make him popular at school. Electric shite, dance shite, hip hop SHITE. He wouldn't know a good tune if it bit him on the arse. I tried to educate him but I’m his big brother, he’d never listen to me.  
“I'm bored, alright?” he admitted. “Mam’ll make me do fucking housework or summat if I go home.”  
She wouldn’t let him stay in bed and she wouldn’t let him stay in the house unless he was doing housework or schoolwork. She was the same when I got excluded but I always just played my guitar and she’d let me off because I was learning something.  
“Shouldn't have gotten excluded then.” I was secretly proud of him for sticking up for himself and the other lad had it coming but Mam insisted we act disappointed in him for it.  
“Can't we do something?” he asked with a deep, bored sigh.  
“You’ve got no mates you can bother?” I suggested knowing he wouldn’t be here if he did.  
“All in school, ain’t they?” And I was stuck with him.  
I was tempted to put the most boring program I could find on, he'd get bored and want to fuck off long before I did but I decided to play nice.  
“I need to get some food in.” I suggested.  
“Better than you pretending you’re that McCartney bloke but even shitter.” he shrugged.  
I searched through my cupboard for what I needed to buy. I had lots and lots of pot noodles, Tesco value ones (the cheapest shit to save my quid) my diet was going to kill me before smoking and snorting did.  
I grabbed my wallet and we left for the shop.  
The nearest shop was only down the street so Liam got an idea as soon as we were out the building. “I'll race you there.”  
“You're on.” I had no intention of running since he didn't place a bet on it, I wanted to see how long it would take him to notice.  
“Go.” he instructed as soon as he was ready.  
I ran about three steps before going back to walking like a normal person. He ran all the way and stood waiting, he looked like he could keel over.  
“Looser!” he said smugly despite trying to catch his breath.  
“I'm not the one stood panting in the middle of the street, kid.” I pushed him towards the shop.  
“Aren't you meant to be in school? The shop woman asked thinking Liam was a delinquent teenager and alone.  
They didn't allow school kids in without an adult, with good reason.  
“He's with me.” I told her, it didn't really help his case since I'd nicked plenty of stuff in my time.  
“Buy us some fags.” Liam asked nodding over to the counter.  
“No, you never fucking pay me back and Mam hates you smoking.”  
She'd given up arguing her case with me and Paul but Liam was still her baby. Not that it’d make a difference when he turned sixteen in September and could just buy them himself instead of scrounging them off people (usually me).  
“Oh, she said to say you've got to come for dinner on Sunday.” he remembered after hours in my company.  
“I’ve got a gig on Sunday.” I groaned.  
I wanted to prepare for that plus I didn’t like the atmosphere at dinner, forced to be around my family and all that.  
He laughed as exaggerated he could. “No you fucking haven't.”  
Okay, it wasn’t a gig but two mates wanted me to audition for their band, the band they were trying to put together. “What d’you know?”  
“Know no fucker would pay to come and see you.” he responded.  
“Whatever, Liam.” I shook my head at him and kept looking for food.  
He was never to say I was good. I could sell out Wembley stadium, have hundred number one albums and everything and he'd still say I was crap.  
“Just saying you need to get with the times, no one gives a shit about guitar shite now.” he shrugged.  
“Could you stop swearing, please?” the shop woman asked, she’d been watching us like a hawk the whole time and apparently she was sick of our language since we’d done nothing else wrong.  
Liam turned to direct the shop woman. “We're the only ones in here, who gives a fuck?”  
“Liam!” I scolded.  
This is why school wanted rid of him, why everyone wants rid of him. He’s got two problems, that kid. Everything he fucking says and everything he fucking does.  
I honestly paid for everything, making a hasty exit (before he got into a full blown argument) and made him carry the bags back to mine.  
He stayed all fucking day.  
…  
Sunday came and I was so fucking nervous. All I had to do was play to my mates, didn’t even need me to sing and I’d practiced all week.  
I filled up on Mam’s sunday roast, in a hurry to get out of there. It was delicious as always but it didn’t go well with nerves.  
The audition was in an upstairs room of a pub. They’d put out a few rows of chairs that would remain empty. They sat front and centre and made me sit on a stool on my stage and play.  
As soon as I started to play my nerves vanished. There was only two of them but all I could think was “Look at you now you're all in my hands tonight! I'm a rock 'n' roll star!”  
I felt like Paul McCartney or Johnny Marr or at least Steve Jones. I knew I belonged in front of a crowd doing exactly this, two or two million, I didn’t care. I wanted it all.


End file.
